Challenge!
by Son of Ceres
Summary: Read the first section for a full description, if you intend to write a story around this challenge the you will need all of the content of the first page, If you want to look at what stories have accepted this challenge then look at the later pages. IMPORTANT! If you are looking for the stories then try not to read after where I have marked INTRODUCTION, as this will be spoilers


This challenge is different to a number of challenges I have seen, I make no demands of you, no specific guidelines, I merely ask that you use my introduction as the base of your story, you may give Harry and powers you like, use any pairing (preferably no slash) and portray Harry however you wish. If you do write a story based around my challenge I hope that you will take the time to PM me the story name and a brief summary, I will create a list of stories that use this challenge and add to/edit it as I receive more. The more I like your story, the higher it will be on this list.

INTRODUCTION

Pain.

That was all his life was, either the pain from not having enough food to eat, the pain from the beatings, or the pain from the heartache he felt inside.

He didn't know his real name, all he could remember was being called 'Boy' or 'Freak'.

He had very little in the way of things he called his own, his glasses being the only thing that really mattered to him.

He realised very early on in his life that there were only two truths; One, The people he lived with hated him. They showed him no love or affection, he was rarely fed (mostly leftovers, although he did get lucky one time when they were out and he managed to find some real bread! It was just sat there in the living room!) and Two, magic existed. He saw no other explanation for why he kept being told it wasn't and then inexplicable things would happen.

He knew that many other things were true, such as the theory of relativity, the speed of light in a vacuum was constant, among a host of other things but to him, these two truths were all that mattered.

His days followed a rather set routine, at 7 AM he would be woken up where he would immediately proceed into the kitchen to cook his family breakfast. This usually consisted of, he estimated, half a pig, around two dozen eggs, two loaves of bread, three packs of mushrooms and at least half a litre of oil.

He knew that this was incredibly unhealthy but the first time he commented on it he had been beaten and locked in his cupboard for three days with no food or water. He didn't mind that so much but it was rather boring in his cupboard so he tried to avoid going there as much as possible.

After cooking breakfast he would then wait until the people he lived with had finished before clearing their plates and washing them up.

As he did this, Vernon would go to work and Dudley to school.

School! He resented Dudley for the chance he got, he could only learn from the books he read in the library, Dudley had actual teachers! Not that he seemed to care, Dudley seemed intent on doing whatever he wanted, and learning was not one of those things.

Once he had completed those tasks he had his list of daily chores to do while Petunia would sit and watch the television, stand in the garden pretending she was gardening, or just generally complain about everything he did.

As soon as those were finished, and they had to be done by 3 PM promptly, he would be sent off into the local area with a stern warning not to do anything 'Freakish'. He usually occupied the two hours he had free here reading in the library.

He liked the library, it was a quiet place with so much knowledge to share. The librarian was nice, provided he was quiet, and there was always something he hadn't read set aside for him every day.

The first time he had come in had been an accident at the age of four, he was trying to escape from Dudley and his friends, in doing so he had walked in and marvelled at the books. The librarian had come up to him and asked if he needed any help, he gratefully nodded (someone had been nice to him!) and asked if there were any books that helped teach someone to read. Assuming the boy had been sent in by parents who were busy for the day, she happily obliged and took him to the children's book section, in there he found some incredible stories about all manner of things. He spent a lot of his childhood in there but was unaware of the observations of the library staff. They had all decided to keep an eye out for the boy who had made their hallowed halls of learning his safe haven.

As time passed and he read more and more difficult books the librarians grew more and more fond of the young boy, even offering suggestions for the books he should read next. But the scholastic group were slightly saddened that they had never once heard the boy laugh. They had seen him smile, it was something he always did when presented with a new book, but not even when reading the children's books had the small boy laughed.

After his daily retreat to the library the young boy would return home to begin preparing dinner. Dinner was a similar affair to breakfast, the portions were wildly oversized and he, once again, was lucky to get the cold leftovers on the plates.

After he had cleaned up from dinner he would retreat to the library for another few hours until it was time to return and go to bed.

This had been his daily routine for approximately 9 years. He had grown slowly but surely and had reached a rather impressive height for a 10 year old. His frame was very wiry however, the small amounts of muscle he had built being continually stripped down to make more energy to survive with.

However, on the day of Dudley's 11th birthday, his routine would be shaken from it's very foundations.

This, dear reader, is where your story begins.


End file.
